


Loss

by sinkingwmyships



Series: Multifandom Oneshots [5]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Insecure Oikawa Tooru, Writing Prompt, from Oikawa's POV, warning this is 1st POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:20:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23036164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinkingwmyships/pseuds/sinkingwmyships
Summary: Oikawa loses. Like he has done a thousand times before.[Prompt 5: "My best is never good enough."](Yep, this is the redo I mentioned. But feel free to go read the KiriBaku version if you want ^^)(Alternate summary:Oikawa has lost before — but each time, it hits a little different.Aight haha the summary bouta be longer than the actual oneshot :') Just go read it.)
Series: Multifandom Oneshots [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1655530
Kudos: 18





	Loss

**Author's Note:**

> This is set during that match where Karasuno finally wins against Aoba Johsai. u kno what i mean

Tobio moved, and I watched him get into position for the set — the exact same position as when they’d lost to us, just mere months before. _Awfully bold_ , I wanted to sneer, but could not because I knew it was not so much boldness as it was confidence. Absolute confidence.

“Block! Block!” The coaches… no, the audience… no, _everyone_ seemed to be yelling, but I could barely process anything other than what was going on on the court. _My teammates know that_ , I snapped as I saw them move into position, 16, 12, 4 all simultaneously, _they know it so well there’s no need for you to tell them what to do_. The shrimp jumped — oh, how he jumped — and time seemed to stand still as he sprung up into the open air and soared over the net: a territory, _his_ territory, that no one could invade. The ball fell and Tobio’s hands caught it, his fingers, his wrists, his arms sending it in one fluid motion exactly into his hitter’s palm. And I knew, _I knew_ , when those blue eyes flicked over all the way from the opposite side of the court, when that orange halo reigned over us all from above the white divide, when that hand, like the tip of a wing, slammed onto the ball and sent it downwards, that

_my best_

The ball brushed against Kindaichi’s arm and spun, wild, like a lost leaf caught in the sudden wind. My stomach dropped.

_is never_

I didn’t need to look at the blockers’ expressions to know them: shock, fear, _faith_ , in Wataru, in Hanamaki, in _captain we believe in you_ , in me me _me_ —

_never_

And so I ran and knelt and extended my arms and watched, because I would bring it up, because I _had_ _to_ bring it up. My surroundings faded to nothing as the ball shot through the air, its rough skin colliding with my arms, before the yellow and blue pattern slipped and spun. I could hear it, whistling past my right ear, and I could almost see it and _have_ it, too; but all too soon my chance was gone, and the deafening _tmp, tmp, tmp_ of the ball hitting the ground were all that were left.

_never_

The piercing whistle ringing through the entire stadium. The skid of Hinata’s shoes when he hit the floor. The sound of my own teammates landing; and, I think, too, the sound of me collapsing onto the cold hard wood.

_good enough._


End file.
